


In Sickness and In School

by abgrn



Series: Far From War [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, Bullying, Everyone has communication issues, Flash is not Flash is a bullying ass who never learned to grow up, Flash uses the r word, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Natasha Romanov Takes No Shit, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, Peter Parker Has Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Bucky Barnes, Sick Peter, Steve Rogers Doesn't Like Bullies, They have some serious talks, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony is a good dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24321160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abgrn/pseuds/abgrn
Summary: The Avengers don't like it when Peter doesn't take proper care of himself.Also known as: Peter is sick, Flash is an Ass, Bucky and Tony come to the rescue and suffice to say Flash won't ever look in Peters direction again once Natasha is through with him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Far From War [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1138772
Comments: 6
Kudos: 267





	In Sickness and In School

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo, heres another installment of Far From War, though this one has a little more Tony and less Bucky but yeah. Also a wee TW for people Flash uses the r-word at the * .Let me know what you think if you want to, if you've got a sec. Hope everyone and their families stay safe xx.

Peter blinked twice and failed epically to clear his vision. There was a loud thumping in his ears as blood rushed too fast to his head. Someone three rows behind him was tapping their pencil on the table in a too quick off-key rhythm, and Abe was sliding his chair back and forward just a little each second, the sound piercing Peters ears with shrilling accuracy. He panted softly, his jumper seeming to enclose around him, tighter and tighter until he was suffocating. Unbeknownst to him but very clear to a worried Ned who sat beside him, his skin was pale and clammy, rivulets of sweat running down his face.

“Hey, dude, you-eh,-you ok?” Peter flinched at simply how loud Neds voice was and fought every instinct not to jump to the ceiling. His fists clenched, nearly splitting the table in half.

“Fine, m’fine Ned.” He muttered, even that small sentence exhausting him. Ned raised an eyebrow in disbelief, the expression unusually cold and sarcastic on his normally round and cheerful face.

“Yah. Fine. You’re totally fine Peter. And I’m as cool as MJ. C’mon man you need to go home.” He lowered his voice, “D’you want me to call, you know, _him_?”

This shook Peter out of his beginning faint as he nearly yelled

“NO, nonono, Ned you can’t, please!”

“Parker, Leeds what is going on over there?” Mr Harrington’s raised voice just about cracked Peters skull in two as he and Ned replied in unison.

“Nothing sir.”

“Peter needs to go to the nurse, Mr. Harrington.”

Mr Harrington sighed, doubtlessly bored of them already.

“Go on then, Parker, there’s only seconds let of class anyway.”

Peters face was now as red as his Spiderman suit as he slinked, mortified beyond belief forever, from his chair, cringing and withholding an agonised shriek as it fell over and clattered off the floor, cheap steel grating on old tile. He snatched his bag, the material too scratchy in his hands and bolted. He only managed to stumble blindly a few steps away from the full classroom and leant on the lockers with a groan. God this was the worst, he simply had to get himself together, Spiderman couldn’t be sick, he had patrols planned tonight and how was he going to study for his Spanish test if he couldn’t even see straight?

Peter, being Peter still managing to fret over exams whilst his mind worked like sludge and his legs were trembling trying desperately to hold him up. Everything was too loud, too cold, too bright with too many colours, his clothes were rubbing every inch of his skin the wrong way and its stomach was about to devour itself like a cannibal alien predator. It only got significantly worse, as the back of his neck tingled, seconds too late. The school bell rang. Each hit of the clapper against the mouth was a like sledgehammer to the head as Peter dropped to his knees, his bag spilling open and his hands futilely clasped over his ears.

**“God, Penis, you’re such a retard.” Flash’s taunt was too loud, too close and hurt far more physically than it ever did emotionally. Peters body shook and heaved as his stomach gave out and upended on Flash’s $80 shoes. His vision was so blurry and his ears rang so much he barely noticed Flash hauling him up by hair and shoving him into the nearest locker until the clang of the door nearly made him throw up again.

The more mentally aware part of Peters brain snorted. Really? What was Flash, a twelve-year-old jock bully now, was that what was happening? ‘Cause that’s a pretty dumb de-escalation. It was almost funny until it wasn’t, when the locker got too dark and the metal was too cold and hard on his skin and all the super strength in the world couldn’t have forced open that locker door. And oh, God it was happening again, he was dying, the concrete was closing in and crushing him, his hands were bleeding, his body was buckling, his arms weren’t strong enough, he wasn’t strong enough, what would Mr Stark say? Oh hell, Mr Stark. He was going to be even more disappointed in Peter than he already was, he’d let Toomes get away, all of Mr Starks stuff was gonna be stolen and Peter wasn’t able to stop it. He was so pathetic, nothing without the suit just like Mr Stark said and now he was gonna die here, trapped and crushed under a ceiling, suffocating to death because there was no air, oh god there was no air he couldn’t breathe, hecouldn’tbreathecouldn’tbreathe-there was a huge creaking, lurching sound that he noted dimly, in between useless sharp inhales of no oxygen.

As the lack of oxygen took its toll, Peter slipped just a little further despite the tight space and there was a nasty thwack as his head clattered the metal corner of the empty locker. Had his brain lasted two more seconds he would have been aware of-or maybe not-of a screeching sound of the third locker door in a row being ripped off the hinges to join the others on the charred floor and a metal arm glinting in the setting sun as its owner reached for him with an angry snarl. Peter was sufficiently unconscious with a concussion at this point and was, thusly, unaware of any the above events nor the few following:

  * Being carried back to Stark Towers wonderfully-equipped-for-every-situation-including-this-one Medbay in the arms of a murder-strutting Bucky Barnes whose glower would have put the Devil to shame.
  * Tony Starks fading smile of relief, his brown eyes becoming icy shutters and his hand reaching for his phone to make a few calls.
  * Natasha Romanoff’s stride out the door, knife in hand, only pausing to brief an alarmed Steve Rogers who then nodded grimly and turned to join her.
  * No-one stopping either of them, except a gleeful FRIDAY who may or may have not uttered the very private and totally not under data protection laws, address of a Eugene “Flash” Thomas.



The first thing Peter did become aware of, though, hours and several overprotective heroes actions later, was how thirsty he was. He shifted a finger than another and revelled in his own success, unknowingly giving a hissy little cheer under his breath. His eyes were still closed so he would later be adamant that he couldn’t known the people beside his bed would chuckle at him.

“Easy now, Peter, sip this slowly.” As the straw parted his dry lips and he gobbled water greedily, he placed the calm voice.

Bruce smiled at Peters “D’t’r Bnnr?” and replied easily,

“I did tell you to call me Bruce several months ago but yes, its me Peter.”

“How come you never told me to call you Bruce?! That’s just favouritsm! Discrimination it is! Captain Fair and Righteous I demand you do something!”

“You call me everything except my first name Tony, I assumed we were beyond such things in our friendship now.”

“Yesss Science Bros Friendship Forever, Green-bean.” 

The second exchange Peter was aware of was the deadpan ‘See I Told You So’ look that Dr. Banner exchanged with the rest of the Avengers that were…gathered around Peters bed? Ok so that wasn’t weird at all, one part of Peters brain surmised whilst the other part-the Ned part-squealed in fanboy excitement as it always did when the Avengers were around. The excited squealing quickly stopped as Peter caught sight of Mr Starks brown eyes, alight with amusement, peered at him with concern.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted, remembering vividly how sure he’d been that Mr. Stark was disappointed in him. The Avengers stiffened as a whole, and Natasha seemed to take this as a que to get them all to haul ass out of there as Peter pushed himself up. He managed this Herculean task just as the Black Widow kicked-literally-a protest-hissing Captain America out of the door and leant back in,

“You too, симпатичный мальчик (simpatichnyy mal'chik), get moving!”

A flustered Bucky Barnes blushed, shot Peter an awkward encouraging grin and shuffled out the door, leaving a dying Peter with an uncomfortable Tony Stark.

“You don’t gotta be sorry kid, you did nothing wro-”

“I didn’t mean to disappoint you but it took so long to lift the roof and it was so heavy-” They cut each other off, both wearing equal looks of horror.

“When the damn fucking hell did you get stuck under a roof, Peter?” Mr Stark’s voice was so quiet it took nearly a whole minute to register in Peters brain.

“Um, that-that time with the Vulture and the-the eh-plane?” It sounded more and more like a question as Peter made a diving motion with his hand and then internally cringed at himself for being such a dork, Goddamnit Parker.

“Oh my god. OH MY GOD. Are you ok? No don’t be a fucking idiot, Tony, of course he’s not ok fuckfuckfuckityfuckerdoodle.” Peter paled even further than sickly pale as Mr Stark leapt to his feet and muttered to himself.

“I’m sorry!” He cried again, feeling tears burn hot at the edges of his eyes. Mr Stark stopped his pacing and looked over his shoulder alarmed.

“Holy hell, Underoos, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout at you, alright?” He passed Peter a tissue or 50 from the neat box Bruce kept on the bedstand and knelt down by his bed.

“Why didn’t you mention that kiddo? It seems kinda hard to forget.”

“I can’t forget.” Peter shuddered. “And I..” he peeked out from under his lashes. “I though you knew.”

“Spangles patriotic ass, I knew.” Mr Stark snapped though it wasn’t maliciously aimed at Peter, the familiar look of self-inflicted guilt Peter saw in the mirror everyday reappearing on his face.

“Oh.” Peter said dumbly, his brain capable of nothing else, his body still not quite cooperating though the sensory overload seemed to have stopped.

“I guess taking your suit really did put you in danger, huh?” Mr Stark smiled sadly and gently placed his hand on Peters knee.

As Peter opened his mouth to frantically reassure Mr Stark that he knew it was well-deserved, the man cut him off with a trademark smirk and said “At least it’s mega cool now hey?”

“It totally is Mr Stark! I love the new way it shows the web formula!”

“Of course you do you’re a chemistry nerd.” Mr Stark deadpanned. They both laughed for a minute at the familiar insult until Tony’s face softened again.

“Speaking of Chemistry...” he started, making the pit of dread in Peters stomach blossom into a great big oak tree, “You uh, you wanna tell me what happened at school today?”

“I just felt a little off that’s all.” Peter shrugged nonchalantly, praying the man would drop it.

Unfortunately, Tony Stark did not get where he was in life by ‘dropping it’ and so pushed.

“So you climbed into a locker to nap was that it?” His sarcastic remark brought equal horror and relief to Peter because

“Oh, it was the locker, good I thought I was back in the lair.” And then “Flash put me in a locker!?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “OK a lot to unpack right there ok, lets see. Next time, kid you really gotta stay home when you’re not feeling good, yeah? And have Karen call Bruceybear or me or anyone-even Barnes-especially Barnes, he’s the one that racked up $500 in property damage tearing all the lockers apart to find you so you’re in good hands-hand?-there. Or with anyone of us really. Just, basically, my point is, even heroes don’t have to take being sick like a champ.” He cleared his throat.

“I mean, Natasha likes to stab people with her ice-cream spoon when she’s sick, Clint whines for hours on end because he can’t concentrate on Mario Kart and the one time Steve got a headache from too much Metallica he thought he was dying so trust me kid, you’re in good company here.”

Peter gaped in awe as the aforementioned scenes played in his mind, only to be quickly halted when Mr Stark said “Yeah and that kid with the horrendously stupid name won’t be putting you anywhere ever again kiddo, I promise. If Natasha’s left anything of him.”

Visions of a terrifying Natasha raining vengeance on a crying Flash made Peter sigh in joy and then feel immediately guilty.

“Is he..ok?”

“Honestly, Spider-boy, I got no idea. I’m sure the good captain reined her in.”

As in Captain-I-Hate-Bullies-America? They froze for a second as they both realised the irony in the statement. Mr Stark cringed and rose from beside the bed and popped his joints with a groan.

“Anyyyhoodles, I’ll let you get some rest, Doctors orders, mine and Bigreens so I suggest you do it, chopchop off to sleep you go.” As he pirouetted to the door, Peter yawned and snuggled down in the blankets.

“Oh, and Peter?”

“Hmmhmmm Mr Stark?”

“I’m never, ever disappointed in you, I know you’ll always make me proud.”

There was a big grin that couldn’t be attributed to any amount of morphine on his face as Peter Parker fell back asleep, his dreams full of terrified Flash and a beaming Tony Stark wearing encouraging science puns on a t-shirt. Any happy man’s best dream.


End file.
